


A Date and a Storm

by Laura_Maz



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Self-Doubt, spoilers for Shadows Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Maz/pseuds/Laura_Maz
Summary: A date that involves a dinner out isn't complete with an "after dinner". This time, anyway, the elements have their say about that.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	A Date and a Storm

The small room in the Stormwind Keep that had been granted to Captain Flynn Fairwind of Boralus since his arrival was small, cozy and comfortable, with a big fireplace and a small window with a view on the inner garden. However, in that shining afternoon something weird had happened to that nice place where he had spent the last anguished nights waiting for news about the Spymaster of Stormwind’s return trip. The bed, the chair and desk, the mantelpiece, the cupboard and part of the floor were littered with clothes, shirts, sashes, trousers.

The Captain himself, standing in the middle of the room, was looking around with a discouraged look on his face. He picked up an orange shirt and lifted it in front of his eyes. Two fairly sized holes on the lower part of the front made him sigh. Then he spotted something on the bed and jumped from free patch to free patch on the floor to lift up a dark grey shirt from the cloth heap on the sheets. The piece of cloth was decent, simple, opened to the chest and held together with strings. He smiled brightly. He knew well how the fabric would have fallen on his broad shoulders and how well its colour would match his auburn hair. For his date ( _because it was a date, wasn’t it?_ ) he wanted to shine his best looks on Shaw.

To be honest, once the shock of his own forward reaction towards the Master Assassin and of the corresponding heartfelt invitation to a date had begun to settle, he had also felt quite nervous about the whole thing. With his undaunted nature he would have never admitted it, but the thought that -this- could happen made him feel both sick and elated, with hundreds of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

‘I’m undignified’, he had thought while descending the gangplank of that blessed merchant ship, and laughed soon after. That word sounded more like something Shaw could have said, not himself… but maybe some traits of the Spymaster could have rubbed off on himself in the time they had spent on the _Bold Arva_ , he thought with a wicked smile. So, to get himself started, he had decided that the occasion really needed himself to look splendid, only to find out that his wardrobe was severely lacking. At least, this shirt was really fine for the occasion and…

Something caught his eyes and he groaned, desperate. Under the left sleeve, something sharp that he had no memory of had left a long, transversal cut.

“No way!”, he exclaimed, feeling lost. With that, his last hope of finding an unmarred shirt was lost. All of them were frankly speaking quite old and had some degree of damage - stains, darns, tears and so on. Dejected, he looked at the mess he had created without knowing what to do. He couldn’t go about Stormwind looking for shops he didn’t know of since it was already late and a distinct feeling of something akin to panic started to crawl in his stomach. What should he do now? Automatically, he went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of fine rum he had bought the day before to help himself feel less lonely and he took a good sip of it, feeling it descend like silk in his throat.

A discreet rap at the door nearly started him. He went to the door to open the latch and there stood Marvin, the old manservant who had been tasked to take care about him. The man blinked, surprised at the astounding change the room had undergone and he looked at Fairwind with a perked brow.

“I’ve come to light the fire in your room, Captain Fairwind”.

“Oh! Err… come in, Marvin”. Fairwind let the man pass and tried to act natural, as if the room didn’t seem like the theatre of an explosion.

Marvin managed not to gape, but his wide eyes left no doubts about his perplexity. He cleared his throat and asked gently:

“It seems to me you are in trouble for the choice of clothes for the evening, sir. May I be of help?”

Fairwind looked at the man as if he was a mirage of an oasis in the desert.

“Yes, Marvin! I have an appointment tonight, a… date”, the Kul Tiran blushed fairly well under the scrutiny of Marvin, “and I have nothing to wear. Where can I go to buy anything… not very expensive?”, he said, thinking with dread of his more than half empty purse. Marvin put down the box with the logs and looked critically at the Captain.

“How much time do we have to solve the problem?”

“Until the seventh bell I suppose, then I will have to set myself on the road for the Gilded Rose. I haven’t been given clear hints but the word ‘evening’”.

Marvin sighed.

“We will have to make it do, sir. Take a bath, I will send someone to buy clothes for you. Preferences?”

Fairwind grabbed Marvin in a dance spin.

“Thanks, Marvin, you’re a gem! Grey shirt, matching trousers, ok? Ah, I knew it!”

Setting down the bewildered man, he jumped to the chest of drawers taking out clean underwear and ran away out of the room, to the bathrooms. Marvin looked at him disappearing in the corridor and only then he smiled shaking his head.

***

Fairwind was striding boldly through the narrow streets of the Old Town, directed to the Trade District. At first he had felt larger than life, in his new clothes and his new cloak crafted in the fashion of Stormwind, grinning widely spotting out of the corner of his eye people turning to look at him walking boldly - and indeed many did, either finding him weird or attractive. He sauntered on the cobblestones, almost dancing, his freshly washed hair, held back in his usual ponytail by a leather band, that jumped on his back at every stride, his eyes bound to the narrow alleys and to the old map Marvin had procured for him.

Yet, slowly, the boldness of his stride lost some shine as he began to approach the Trade District. Uncertainty took weight in his guts and he had to give himself a good shake. Shaw himself had invited him, hadn't he? He had returned his goofy, greedy embrace in full, he had talked back to him without shooing him away. He had even given him that darn grass blade which now rested safe in his belt pouch, and he had tried all evening to make out the meaning of it. His eyes had been so green, so full of something that had stirred him deeply, instinctively, without conscious thought, and he had blushed in front of that gorgeous man like a teenager at his first date.

 _but he could just want to say thank you -_ _he could also tell you to get lost, that you are nothing to him -_ _he’s the Spymaster of the Alliance, you are a drunkard, an ex-pirate son of a thief -_ _he might laugh at you_

_STOP OBSESSING_

He stopped mid stride and pressed his hands to his face to cancel those absurd, disturbing thoughts from his mind, forcing the passer-by behind to change direction with a perceptible uff. Not even the rum he had sipped before going out was helping now, and he thought with desire that at the inn he could order something strong to keep the mood going.

_coward_

The word surfaced from somewhere dark in his mind and it sank in his heart like a blade so thin he didn’t even notice the pain. He grimaced, eyes squeezed shut.

He had given in to drinking once he left piratehood for good, after the “incident” with Harlan Sweete and what had been a fairly under control habit had become a vice which he couldn’t let go of. He had started to help himself with the bottle - rum, preferably, but also whiskey, ale, whatever it was he could drink - to quench the biting flames of sorrow and shame and now it was just… ingrained in his life like his auburn hair and his steel blue eyes. When Shaw had boarded the _Bold Arva_ , he had found it necessary to be drunk even more often, almost all times, as if that was the reality he had to live in to give his best to the crew, to the ship and to his main passenger. The thought had begun to disturb him quite a lot lately but, as it was, he championed the creative forgetfulness well enough to be able to shrug the thought off… mostly.

He had had a devastating night in Boralus after he sailed back from Zandalar, when his grief, anger and worry had become nearly unbearable. For all he knew, Shaw could be dead by now, or tortured, or fed to the raptors or whatever horrible end those trolls could find for him. He had gone from bar to bar, drinking, gambling, and he had ended up in a nasty brawl from which he had come out scratched, bruised and with a black eye. Not happy with the result, he had chosen a last bar and had drunk himself unconscious, finding himself sprawled in an alley the following day.

After sleeping away the fumes and bearing the following, head splitting hangover, he had felt both ashamed and very sorry for himself. He had resisted the urge to go at it again and instead he had tried to think his reaction and his feelings through, coming to the not-so-happy realization that the Spymaster’s face and voice, not to speak of his body, had put roots in his mind and heart. The only man who knew about Lyra Fairwind because Flynn himself trusted him so much, the only man who had shared silence and had not judged him, the Spymaster of the Alliance who had treated an ex-pirate like an equal. The thought of the few seconds in which he had had him in his arms on the _Bold Arva_ had kept torturing him at night, while he couldn’t help but recall the strong, lithe body who had pressed against his, the wiry arms and slender hips, and Shaw’s eyes, so incredibly green… Shaw was maybe imprisoned, maybe dead and more than once those thoughts had sent him back to the bottle, but the thought of those wonderful emerald eyes had helped the seaman to stifle the urge of drowning himself in whiskey and rum. After only some swigs, he had always put the bottle away and had gone about his business, trying to forget his obsession at least for a while.

Then, three days earlier the Lord Admiral had summoned him to the Admiralty announcing that Master Shaw was on his way home on a merchant ship and then she had portalled them both to Stormwind Keep, where they had been greeted by the King himself, who had commended him for his abnegation and had entrusted him to Marvin.

Fairwind’s habitual answer to the unknown was to follow his instinct no matter what and he had reacted to the awkwardness of the situation by treating the High King almost like one of his friends back in Boralus, to King Greymane’s utmost horror and the Lord Admiral’s utmost amusement, while the High King hadn’t seemed to care at all about his familiarity. Only after the door of that small room had closed behind him he had been able to think about Shaw, letting go of all his pent up anguish and worry with a sudden gust of tears. No one was there to witness it, anyway. Marvin had tried to make him eat something more fit, but Fairwind had just lived on tea, some bread and butter and some whiskey, just not to lose the habit, going on by sheer willpower.

And then, earlier that day Shaw’s ship had docked at the wharf and there he had stood, behind the railing, his short, roughly cut hair glinting like freshly coined copper coins and those incredible emerald eyes and there was so much a man could take, so Flynn had just pushed away the High King - again, more like a mate than anything else - and he had found himself, without a sensible thought, in Shaw’s arms, hugging him like he could disappear again. Luckily for him, Shaw had hugged him back with the same intensity and warmth.

_I had to get you back_

_and here I am_

_here you are_

And then, for the second time ever, Shaw had called him by his name and asked him out that night, giving him a grass blade as a token. For a moment his heart had stopped and Shaw had smiled, knowingly, almost tenderly and he had flushed like never before in front of a man or a woman. In that moment only the pieces had fallen into place and he had known he was utterly lost in love for the Spymaster.

Now, he was minutes away from meeting the man he had fallen for, the man for whom he had nearly died in the tempests and who knew him better than anyone, and he felt like a foolish, enamoured teenager instead of a grown up man and captain of ships.

He forced himself to step onwards nonchalantly, going over the bridge that separated the Old Town from the Trade District, aware that the people around him couldn’t feel his pounding heart. The blue roofs of that part of the city were sensibly better maintained and the houses looked slightly bigger and with a distinguished look about them. He asked for directions and in the end, after walking by the barber shop and a gate opening towards another section of the city, he took a turn, following the cobblestones down a sweet slope and, from afar, he spotted the sign of the inn. For a moment, his mind went blank and then he almost started to run to reach the place, with good peace of all his doubts and dark thoughts. Shaw was already there, probably, and there was nowhere in that moment he would like to be more than next to him.

***

Fairwind entered the inn warily, like a cat in a foreign room, ears perked, eyes wide, ready to spot signs of the presence of Shaw. The inn wasn’t big and the counter was complete, but he could not spot any signs of Shaw. He knew better than to look at the tables in the middle of the room, but the light was dim and the patrons going to and fro prevented him from seeing the angles. He opened the silver chain of the burgundy cloak and the opening cloak revealed his strong body, muscular and broad, enhanced by the matching trousers and the dark grey shirt. His auburn hair was quietly burning in the dim light of the candles and his steel blue eyes scanned the room to find signs of Shaw, who apparently was missing. A horrible doubt took him by his throat, squeezing him breathless.

_what if he’s changed his mind -_ _you are just a scoundrel yourself, what did you expect_

before someone brushed his elbow with a gentle touch. Bewildered, he looked at his side to find Shaw next to him, a real sight for sore eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from drawing a sharp breath, looking at the man without articulating a word for a long, long moment.

He was dressed in black, from the silk shirt with silver embroidery at the neck and wrists to the trousers of fine linen to the precious belt of carved leather that girdled his slender hips and sustained the black scabbards. His laced black boots reached the knee, and he had knives strapped to them, and his daggers hung from his sides. His hair, mustache and pale skin contrasted dashingly with his attire but his eyes were the main focus that struck Fairwind in that delirious moment of epiphany. They were glowing emeralds, warmer than any time he had seen them, and they made the slight smirk of the Master Assassin into something so dazzling that Fairwind had to take a step back, flushing, scared of his powerful mental and physical reaction. Shaw blinked, his smile fading in a frown of puzzlement, and Fairwind, by instinct, struck with all his silly charm. He curtsied deeply, almost exaggeratedly, to the Spymaster, letting the cloak swirl behind his arm unheeding of the other patrons who were looking at him amazed.

“Shaw, by the tides, greetings! I must have gone blind, missing you in the crowd…”

Shaw turned to look at the patrons sitting at the tables and then eyed the Kul Tiran up and down with what Fairwind hoped was an appreciative gaze but was, in fact, quite ironic indeed.

“Yes, Flynn, that’s you going blind. You will tell me where there is a crowd here once we are comfortable”.

Shaw led Fairwind, now tame like an impish lamb, to their table, situated in a darker corner near the stairs. Without a word, Shaw sat facing the room. Fairwind hung the cloak next to Shaw’s presumably, since it was the only black one with elegant silvery vines curling and entwining around the edges, and took his good time, hoping that the Spymaster would admire his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Before sitting down, though, Fairwind spotted an extinguished lantern by Shaw’s chair and a leather sack dangling from his chair. The older man followed Fairwind’s gaze as he was sitting down and he smiled ever-so-slightly.

“We will need them later, don’t worry”.

Fairwind smiled widely and without thinking, he disclosed his cards.

“I don’t… whatever keeps me and you together tonight is appreciated and welcome!”

Shaw blinked and his cheeks and ears turned quite red, for one with a skin so fair. He cleared his throat.

“Have you had any troubles finding the inn?”, he asked casually, clearly shifting the topic.

Fairwind shook his head.

“Not at all, pretty simple. I have a map, too. Didn’t break a sweat. I had some trouble finding out what ‘this evening’ means here, but I got help about that at the Keep. I hope I ain’t late”.

Shaw shook his head.

“You are perfectly on time, I’d say. This morning I was too dazed by… a lot of things to be able to be precise”.

He looked at Fairwind with a smile which was not precisely a smirk, looking right into the Captain’s eyes for a long, meaningful moment. Fairwind couldn’t help smiling back, enthralled, and at the same time feeling trapped by his own foolishness like a crab in a cage.

They were joined by a waiter and very soon they could enjoy a hot soup, stew and freshly baked bread, all devoured with numerous glasses of a good, pale yellow wine that Fairwind found surprisingly and interestingly good. Even Shaw honoured the table with the hunger of one kept long away from his familiar tastes.

During the dinner, following his usual pattern, Shaw asked Fairwind about what happened after they parted ways in Zandalar and Flynn made a detailed and rather flourished report, tangling himself so much in the story that at the end of it he had to tell Shaw about his nearly disastrous choice of garments, which made Shaw laugh heartily. Fairwind ate and drank, but his attention was fully focused on his companion. He watched him eat and drink as well and soon he found that there was something forced to the Spymaster’s demeanour, as if his tranquillity was somehow fake. Fairwind began to feel a slight nervousness coat the exquisite taste of the food. He wondered what was wrong with Shaw

_with me_

_there’s something wrong with me_

and his mouth went dry. He swallowed hard and when he lifted his gaze he saw Shaw’s eyes, locked on him, focused and attentive and earnest. He locked eyes with him for a long moment.

“Is there trouble?”, he found himself saying, to his utmost surprised dismay.

Shaw took a sharp breath in and cast a weird glance at Flynn.

“No, Flynn… well, yes. We are being watched more closely than I like it and this makes me tense. I am ruining this all, am I not?”, he said wistfully.

With an inner sigh of relief that dispersed the clouds in his heart, Fairwind shook his head.

“No, not at all. But if you are feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of so many people…”

Mathias smiled.

“No, Flynn. Just bear in mind that this all is rather… new to me, so to say, dinner together and all, and I’m feeling rather… in uncharted waters as you would probably say. Besides, I have just found out that the situation here in the inn makes me feel quite overprotective and I’ve yet to decide if I like it or not”.

Fairwind hesitated only a moment, taking in this new aspect of the whole situation.

“Hey mate, I understand what you say but… why overprotective? What’s to protect here in this place, to be honest…”

Mathias scoffed.

“I’m not sure you have a clear assessment of how the patrons here are gazing at you at this moment. At the counter there is a group of at least four ladies talking about how good your looks are in quite an explicit way and I see one of them right now about to come to this table to see if she can… turn the tables to her favour”, he said dryly, shooting a very a cold and threatening glance that froze said patron while she was about to slide down her stool.

Fairwind observed the scene and grinned, amused, bringing his eyes back on Shaw.

“Well… since I don’t give a damn about anyone else but you, we might go about the ‘plans for later’, I guess? Sincerely I can’t wait to see what you have in mind”.

Something in his tone made Shaw blush ever so slightly.

“Well, yes. If you are done eating we can go to the next stop-over of the evening”.

Briskly, happily, Flynn jumped to his feet. With a quick motion he grabbed his cloak, looking at Mathias expectantly. The Spymaster stared at him for a moment and then, shaking his head amused by the attitude of the seaman, he stood up as well, concealing a laughter. He donned his own cloak and passed the leather bag to Fairwind.

“Wait for me outside, I’ll be short”.

***

Fairwind was leaning to the wall outside the inn, his cloak open and hanging from his broad shoulders, waiting for his companion. He had already understood what was in the leather bag just by the weight and shape of it and he was having a hard time trying not to grin smugly - a peculiar brand of something strong to drink, judging by the shape of the bottom of the bottle. When the Spymaster closed the door behind him, he was at his side in a moment.

“Where now?”, he asked, curious and bold.

Shaw looked at him with a slight smirk and showed him the lantern.

“Far enough to need this”.

Flynn snorted, then set himself to match the silent pace of his companion.

“Mathias”, he ventured using his first name, “What are your plans? Not that I’m going to complain anyway, but you know me by now, I’m dead curious”.

Shaw turned to look at the Kul Tiran, faking seriousness.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that curiosity killed the cat?”.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he took Flynn’s hand, their fingers intertwined, and pulled him along. Fairwind gasped, speechless for once, and just followed the man he loved, like a boy follows a kite.

Shaw led him through lighted roads and dark alleys, and soon the man of Boralus lost the little sense of direction he had mustered. Their boots resounded on the cobblestones as they slowly abandoned the Trade District and made their way towards Lion’s Rest. Yet Shaw didn’t lead Fairwind to the monument and instead he chose to cross the first square after the first stairs near the Stockades, keeping to the shadows of the trees. In a matter of minutes, they were looking at the bushes beyond the marble railing. Shaw let go of Fairwind’s hand and turned to look around, observing the area they had just crossed with a critical eye. No one else was about, but still the man scanned the nooks with the benches and the shadows under the trees carefully. Then, seemingly satisfied, he turned to look at the Kul Tiran.

“Ready for some trekking?”. The spymaster sounded amused, but there was tension on his brow and around his eyes.

At that point Fairwind would have readily agreed to do anything the Spymaster wanted him to and he nodded eagerly.

“Lead on, Mathias! I’m braced up and ready for anything!”

The darkness was deep enough to conceal Shaw’s expression, and even more because the Spymaster had averted his face from Fairwind. He jumped the railing and disappeared among the bushes without a sound, like a ghost, leaving the Captain stranded, gazing at the gap that had just closed behind the Spymaster’s back. Then Flynn stepped over the railing and, with a rustling of leaves that sounded very loud to his ears in the silence of the night and he plunged into the darkness under the city wall. He found himself alone beyond the bushes and he looked around to get a sight of Shaw. Then a noise startled him, flint and tinder being struck, and soon a faint glow could be seen under a tree nearby, where Shaw had just lit his lantern.

“Come, Flynn!”, urged the man.

Taking the Kul Tiran by the hand, he led him away down slopes and uphill, moving in perfect silence in the tall grass and among the trees, helping Fairwind over the coarse rocks at the base of the walls.

After some twenty minutes, they popped out from the darkness of the trees into an open glade on a jutting promontory of rock. Flynn couldn’t but gape in wonder. Down the promontory, gulfs of rocks fell into the sea, and on his right side, across a wide expanse of air, all the Port of Stormwind laid disclosed to his eyes, punctuated by lights. In front of the men only boundless air and sea and countless stars were twinkling and gleaming in the velvet darkness of the night above. Fairwind let out a faint whimper because his heart had given a leap.

_Tidemother_

_so beautiful_

_I’m with Shaw and this place is so beautiful_

In the dim light of the lantern he was still holding high, Shaw was looking intently at Fairwind’s face and he clearly was pleased with what he saw on it because he smiled and lowered the flickering lantern to the ground. With a quick gesture, he took off his cloak and laid it down flat on the grass, sitting down on it after unlacing and placing his boots aside. After a moment of contemplation, Fairwind turned to spot the Spymaster gazing at him attentively, almost studying him, curled to hug his own knees. That closed, yet vulnerable position struck him in a way he couldn’t understand and he hurried near him, unlacing his boots and kicking them away. Shaw nodded and Flynn sat next to him letting his cloak fall nearby, his heart pounding audibly in his ears. The two men looked at each other for an endless moment.

“Get that bottle out of the sack”, said Shaw with his usual frown. “It’s a bit chilly here without my cloak”, which was a thorough lie since the weather was all too warm and moist.

Fairwind grinned, taking a bottle of Aerie 8 Year, Hinterlands Malt out of the sack. His expectations were fulfilled, seeing one of the finest whiskeys he knew right in his hand.

“Wonder how you have come by this bottle in such a short time. It’s fantastic”.

Shaw snorted, observing Fairwind trying to open the cork.

“I had that at home… it’s a gift”.

“By whom?”, asked Fairwind casually, succeeding in his endeavour.

“King Varian himself. He knew me well and once he told me a man should always have something strong and good to share with a friend. He offered me this bottle, saying I would find the right person sooner or later”. In the light of the lantern, his eyes were lost gazing at the past, then he came back to the present, focusing on Flynn. “It seems he was quite right,” he went on quietly with a smile.

The Kul Tiran had quite forgotten himself and the bottle, looking at the luminous smile of the other man and he had to shake himself away from that sight.

“We don’t have glasses,” he said quite clumsily.

“Why, do you care?”, chuckled the spymaster.

Flynn grinned at the sound. “Not at all, Mathias”.

He chugged a good swig of whiskey directly from the bottle and then passed it to the Spymaster. Without missing a beat, Shaw took his own generous swig, shivering while it went down under the elated gaze of Fairwind.

“You seem to like something else besides wine”.

Shaw turned to look at Fairwind with the same gaze of that morning and the ex-pirate flushed, feeling quite hot around his ears and neck, realizing that the other man had given another meaning to his words. His body was getting tense with desire, but Flynn managed to keep steady and, with the taste of whiskey in his mouth, he asked what had been bothering him from the morning.

“Tell me what happened after I left you on that damned shore. I have never done anything I felt more wrong in my life, and mate, I assure you, I have done a lot of wrong things”. He shuddered at the memory, clenching his fist recalling the helpless rage and desperation that had caught him back then. Shaw looked at him, nodded and shifted, sitting cross legged.

“I was taken by the Royal Guard, as you can imagine, disarmed and brought to Dazar’alor bound and gagged. In general I haven’t been treated all too badly, although the food was not first class”, smirked the master assassin. “I assume you would have liked the prison cells, since they were made entirely of gold but they were also quite resilient to prison breaking. I was never left alone throughout the day and so finding a way of escaping has proved to be more challenging than expected. All I could do there was to tempt the guards to talk to me… and think. And so I did, for days… I thought about the past war, about myself and my life and”, he looked straight to Flynn, “about you. A lot. Every time the loneliness bit on me, the first thought was you and the time we have spent together on the _Bold Arva_. And…”, he hesitated a moment, then Flynn could see him set his jaw, as if he had taken a decision. “I thought about the freedom I had there with you. Talking free of schemes, free of boundaries, without worrying about words or silence. Listening to you and your silliness and… what lay beyond that and your laughters, how openly you let me see through you without asking nothing in return. I thought of you…”, Mathias’ voice trailed off, as he turned to look at the sea.

Fairwind couldn’t tear his eyes off Shaw, spellbound and incredulous. The Spymaster’s emerald green eyes and copper hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the lantern. He had hugged himself closely again and suddenly that bothered and pained Flynn so much that he shuffled near and placed his warm, muscular arm on Shaw's shoulders, feeling him tremble at the touch. He drew himself away, trying to find inside of himself some witty remark, some joke to lighten the mood and finding nothing instead. Was his instinct failing him right now that he needed it more than ever…?

_I’m messing up again and again_

Shaw turned to look at him as soon as he felt the absence of touch. “No, Flynn, leave… leave your arm there. I… Light, I need to feel your touch. Please”, he asked quietly.

Immediately the ex-pirate obliged, warming Shaw’s shoulders and holding him near, feeling the tension run in his body.

Far away, the rumble of a thunder could be heard coming from the East.

“I think we need another mouthful of this liquid gold, Shaw”, Flynn stated matter of factly. He took the bottle, gulped down another sip and passed it to Mathias, who took it without hesitation and drank as well.

“It burns like lava, damn”, muttered the Spymaster, placing down the bottle then he turned to his companion, who was smirking slightly.

“Nothing like that while caged, I assume”, Fairwind murmured. Without thinking, he began to massage Shaw’s shoulder with a light touch and the Spymaster leaned into his hand. “Tell me more, Mathias”.

Shaw smiled hesitant, looking at Fairwind. “I thought of myself being lonely for the first time in… I don’t know how much time and that just because of you”.

Fairwind frowned, puzzled. “What have I done about that?”

Shaw pondered his words for a moment, pausing to hear the distant thunder.

“I have always done well by myself. It’s part of how I am built, I suppose and part of how I have been… molded. I never questioned this aspect of myself, like I’ve never questioned my life, and I… can count some years”, he coughed discreetly. “In my life I have known only duty. I wasn’t joking when I told you of my grandmother, Pathonia, who was one of the finest thieves of Stormwind. She was so fine a thief that when she was caught for the third time, she was offered to work for the Guard and the Crown, and she chose that kind of life for my mother first and then for me. She raised me when my mother was killed and taught me the… job. She began when I was four and when I was ten…” He hesitated not looking at Fairwind. “I was an accomplished assassin and thief of the Stormwind Assassins’ Guild. I worked my way up and in time I found myself in the SI:7… as its leader. No time for anything remotely similar to a life of mine. Duty, missions, accomplishments, never a day went by without asking for my entire focus. No time for myself, no time for other people. And now this has become a cage, like the ones in Dazar’alor. A cage that you shattered. I never dared to do it myself, before. It was easier not to have doubts, seeing what the expectations which had been placed on my shoulders. And now… the first thing I thought when I calmed down in that cell was that I needed a holiday in my cabin. The second one… that me being there alone was really too... lonely”. He snorted amused. “And then I knew that I needed someone with me… I need you with me, and not only in that cabin on the highlands. If you want”.

Shaw had locked eyes with Flynn, blushing exceedingly while saying those last words but never lowering his ardent gaze.

To his horror, the Kul Tiran felt a sudden, terrible urge to drink, to say something stupid and clumsy enough to break the moment, to distance himself from the level of commitment he was seeing in Shaw’s eyes and for once he fought his primary instinct that wanted him cageless and free. He growled, annoyed, startling Shaw. He had already risked his own death and the one of his crew, he had risked his ship for that man, for what that man meant for himself, Captain Flynn Fairwind of Boralus, thank you very much. He knew well what his heart would suffer if he messed up the situation and he simply refused to act on a whim as he was used to. After that struggle of a moment, things cleared up in his mind and in his heart and he moved even nearer, pulling Shaw closer to himself in a tender hug. He felt the Spymaster’s body stiffen at first and then, slowly, relax, letting go of any rigidity, until he leant his head against Flynn’s shoulder and encircled his waist with his strong, wiry arms. They remained like that for a while, sitting in silence, enjoying this newfound closeness and their shared warmth, listening to the thunders rumbling in the depths of the skies.

Finally, Fairwind, who had hidden his face into Shaw’s hair, pulled slightly away, allowing the Spymaster to look at him. “Mathias, in all my life I have never imagined I could stumble upon someone like you. I… well, I need you as well, I need you in my life because my feelings for you are too deep to be ignored”, he breathed, trying not to choke on words he had never said to anyone before. “I know this through all the days gone by with only the thought of you in my mind, days spent to worry, to wonder, to fear. All this... and more… told me I had already chosen you”.

They were still holding tightly to each other and Fairwind lifted a hand to caress the other man’s cheek with a tender gesture and went on. “A pirate doesn’t risk their hide for someone they don’t care deeply for”. Flynn smiled impishly.

Mathias mirrored his smile. “Pirates don’t risk their lives but for gold, and this shows how far you have gone from being one, Fairwind...”.

The Captain chuckled and then, without thinking, he leaned forward to press his lips to the Spymaster’s in a tender kiss. For a moment Shaw sat still, almost shocked, then he returned the kiss eagerly opening his mouth to Fairwind. The Kul Tiran accepted the invitation with a shiver of pleasure, finding the other man’s tongue and teasing it with a gentle moan. His hand went to tangle itself in Shaw’s hair, holding him close. The thunders and lightning were nearer now, but the two men didn’t pay any heed to the approaching storm, taken as they were by their kiss and mutual embrace. When Fairwind pulled slightly away, Shaw let out a grumble of protest. Fairwind chuckled.

“I suppose we need some more of that stuff, Mathias. Give that bottle to me”.

Frowning, Shaw did as told but remarked: “I don’t need more of that, Flynn, I…”

Fairwind turned on him his darkest, most flaming gaze and Shaw stopped talking, swallowing hard. “On the contrary, I think you need it to… loosen up and lose that stiffness of yours, Spymaster. Will you trust me in this?”.

He had leant forward and they were forehead against forehead. Shaw nodded, while another thunder roared in the sky. He tried to snatch the bottle from the ex-pirate’s hand but Fairwind held it afar from him and, without breaking eye contact, he drank deeply and then kissed Shaw abruptly, grabbing him by his nape. The Spymaster let out a stifled moan when the Kul Tiran let a good mouthful of that drink wash over in Shaw’s mouth, sharing the rich whiskey with him. The kiss went on and on while their hands explored each other’s body, backs, flanks, hips, waists. Shaw caressed slowly Fairwind’s throat and his fingers entered the opening of the laces on his chest, stroking, touching, deftly untying the knots. Soon he pulled back, almost breathless, drawing forth an indignant moan from the ex-pirate.

“I mean, Mathias, I’m not done with kissing you...”, he lamented and Shaw chuckled. One quick, deft move and Fairwind’s already loosened shirt was pulled off him leaving him bare chested in the dim glow of the lantern. He stood still, feeling Shaw’s burning gaze on himself and he grinned.

“Now, your turn… But since apparently I’m nowhere near to your ability as a matter of picking locks, pickpocketing and the like, I will just wait for you to strip in front of my eyes”.

A louder roar of a thunder underlined his words, and he held his ground as Shaw pondered his words.

“Only if you give me some more of that whiskey”, murmured the Spymaster in the end with a slight, tempting smile. Elated, Fairwind obliged the wish of his beloved and their shared kiss dented even more their composure which was already flickering out. When Fairwind pulled off the kiss, the other man already knew his drill and began to undress slowly, never losing Flynn’s eyes. His hands, however, were more hesitant now, and he looked at his lover with an intent gaze that made Fairwind quite uncomfortable. “What’s wrong, Mathias? I mean, your gaze...”

Shaw stopped undressing. “I want to enjoy this, and you, and… it’s not that obvious for me”. The Spymaster lowered his eyes with a weird gaze that made Flynn grit his teeth. The sadness and the alienation in the eyes of the spy were nearly overwhelming.

“Talk to me, tell me what’s the problem”, Fairwind implored. The whiskey was helping him overcome whatever barrier he could feel between himself and Shaw and he knew by instinct that this was the only way he could have earned the man for himself.

He reached out and Shaw just lowered himself, with just his shirt off, in his embrace, leaning his head onto his chest. The man seemed pleased and he moved his face enough to nuzzle Fairwind’s throat, inhaling deeply with a blissful expression on his face, sending a shiver down the seaman’s spine.

“It’s difficult to say… You are my second man, if you understand what I mean. The second person I allow within the walls I built around myself and to whom I’ve warmed up. My first relation… I was young then, quite young, and it ended in tragedy. A real tragedy, with… political consequences”. Fairwind felt him shudder, clearly remembering those terrifying moments. “When everything was over, I chose to protect myself from any possible romantic engagement. I am not inexperienced”, Shaw smiled, holding Fairwind tighter, “but I have trained my mind, not to mention my heart, to detach from whatever activity my body is busy doing. It’s easier when one has to… accomplish missions. Then you hit, quite literally, my path, and already by the end of the war I knew I wanted to know you better, after that affair in Dazar’alor. The rest, you know it”.

In a moment, the Captain found himself staring into the emerald eyes of the spy.

“But you are not a mission, nor a stranger. You are Flynn, a man so silly and intriguing that I couldn’t steer away from you, and the one I have lost myself to. I don’t need, I don’t want any protection from you, but it’s… hard to dismantle them and allow you in. That’s what I was trying to do: to keep my barriers low”.

“Then tell me how I can make that easier, Mathias. How I can make it beautiful and… well… you know…?”.

Shaw found Flynn's lips again, in a tender, sincere kiss, and then he smirked. “That whiskey is quite helping, you know? And I just need to take things slow to be able to remind myself that it’s you now that I’m in front of. I know I will pull through, Flynn, it’s a matter of practice, only. What’s important is already there”.

The seaman nodded and nuzzled the spy. “I shall make it good and slow for you, Mattie, you just trust me, ok?”

“Mattie?!”

Fairwind laughed aloud, grabbing the bottle and offering it to Shaw.

“Here, Spymaster, and then go on with your… assigned task. When I am done with you, you won’t even be able to stir”.

And Shaw drank another deep swig of whiskey, passing the bottle to Fairwind, and then it was up to the former to show how proficient he was to undress in the longest time possible. Soon the couple laid naked and tangled on Shaw’s cloak, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, with the ex-pirate taking care of reminding the Spymaster of how desired and how handsome he was, and of many other less refined notions of what he was going to experience. The lightnings were lighting up the glade every now and then now, while the thunders were roaring like a bass undertone and a cold breeze had begun to stir the bushes and the trees, kissing their hot, sticky bodies, but neither of those were enough to cover the sighs and moans of pleasure of the couple who wasn’t paying heed to anything but their lovemaking.

The lantern was still burning on a rock nearby and the lightning were quicker and more insistent, and still Fairwind, slightly more than tipsy, was kissing every inch of Shaw’s skin, making him quiver and arch his body. The Spymaster had really drunk more than the usual and in that moment all his inhibitions had fallen. Fairwind couldn’t just believe how intense and needy and touch-starved he was, and all he could do was to use all his remarkable skills to make his lover lose himself more and more in a haze of pleasure, both physical and mental, fulfilling his own deep, urgent need to give Shaw what he needed, to protect him, to make him understand how -far- he could trust him, Flynn.

Shaw implored him and Fairwind answered without hesitation, pinning him down and slowly mounting him raw while kissing him deeply, trying to make it slow and good, trying not to let the whimpers and delightful sounds he heard coming from Shaw spur him to the climax, thinking only of the man in his arms and not about the pleasure building in his loins, and

_**the lightning!!!** _

The huge lightning that struck very, very near above them blinded the lovers even with closed eyes, and they were enveloped right away by the explosion of a thunder that seemed to originate directly where they laid. Fairwind screamed, shocked and scared, every hair on his body upright and Shaw, as scared as his lover, lifted himself to his knees, holding the Kul Tiran steadily.

“We need to--” and no one ever knew what he would say because the sky opened its gates and the rain came crashing down in an outrageous downpour that left them soaked in a matter of seconds. The lightning was sparking higher now and the thunders were a huge lion roaring continuously in the clouds. Mathias and Flynn, naked and soaked wet under the storm, looked at each other in disbelief and then, as if their mind was one and the same, they kissed again and resumed again where they had left, feeling and tasting the rain that made their bodies slick and gave them some measure of relief in the molten heat of their intercourse, held in the embrace of the earth under them, kissed by the strong wind that carried the storm and still lighted up by the glow of the fire of the lantern that kept on burning without faltering, blessed by the fury of the elements that mirrored the fury and splendour of their love.

***

“I really don’t understand this, Flynn. And no, I’m not coming anywhere near you. I have no intention of getting sick like you, thanks”.

Shaw’s merciless remark elicited a moan of protest from his partner, followed by a long theory of sneezes. With a sigh of fake exasperation and masking a smirk, the Spymaster contradicted himself by bringing Fairwind a hot cup of honeymint tea, which had been brewing in the fireplace. The ex-pirate, seated on his bed at the Keep and wrapped up in sheets and quilts, looked up unhappily at his beloved, with liquid, bloodshot, swollen eyes. He tried to say something and was utterly silenced by another series of sneezes.

“Look at yourself, Flynn, you’re a wreck.”

“Mattie, stooop!” Implored Fairwind, too crushed to find a witty remark.

“I might if you stop calling me Mattie, Flynn, not a moment earlier, and maybe not even then”.

“Oh shut up, it’s a cool nickname, and you answered it so gladly and readily two days ago while we were mati---”

“Flynn! I said stop calling me that!”

Coughs and sneezes were the only answer for a while.

“Am sure I would heal quicker if you came here with me under the sheets, Matt-Mathias! I know I would…”

Shaw, now standing next to Fairwind’s bed, arms folded while staring at the miserable ex-pirate and with a weird light in his eyes, snorted.

“You’re just trying to keep me with you for some more days, but this cannot happen. I have things to do, a job to carry out, people to meet”, he explained, but in the meantime he was getting undressed and he quickly joined Fairwind on the bed. The sick seaman happily dragged his lover to himself, covering Shaw with his two quilts.

“No, not going to happen, it’s too hot, give me just the sheets…”

Fairwind tried to put up a fight but he got the sheets wrenched out of his grasp while another series of sneezes was keeping him busy. When he was over that, he looked at Shaw with a tortured expression, but the spy just hugged him and smiled wickedly.

“Think of how ashamed of you your friends in Boralus will be, when the rumours will spread, hearing that the infamous Captain Fairwind, unique among all the Kul Tirans, can get a cold in a summer storm with this kind of heat and this South, in Stormwind!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please, take into consideration that: 1. this is my first fanfiction ever (at least the only one I've ever managed to finish); 2. English is not my native tongue; 3. I'm not good at editing.  
> Feedback is welcome!


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